


A Work of Art

by Laramie



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 01:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7957696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laramie/pseuds/Laramie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thing inspired by this post: http://starrythomas.tumblr.com/post/149929441813 - "“We’re in an exam study group and I just sent you my nudes by accident oops” AU."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Work of Art

**Author's Note:**

> They are both at A-level, and therefore 18 years old.  
> See end notes for trigger warning.

Jimmy painted like he was making love to the figure he was creating: long, smooth strokes with the paintbrush traced the contours of the person appearing on the canvas in front of him. The focus in Jimmy's entire being was palpable even from where Thomas hovered in the classroom doorway, transfixed by the graceful motions of Jimmy's body. His hips swayed slightly as his left hand swept to the right of the painting, defining a strong thigh. There was a streak of dried black paint in the back of his blond hair, as though Jimmy had scratched his head with wet fingers. He was breath-taking in his complete immersion in his task.

Jimmy had rolled his long sleeves up out of the way, clearly expecting to be alone - Thomas had never actually seen his forearms before. He could guess the reason for that now: they were scattered with horizontal scars of various ages - some healed white, a handful still clearly raw. The thought of what they meant made Thomas's heart clench, overwhelmed by the other boy's pain. He wouldn't have expected it from such a popular boy; everyone was eager for Jimmy's approval, really. He was the best-looking boy in the year, too, and had broken more than his fair share of girls' hearts. But underneath all that was some quiet struggle that Thomas had never seen in his apparently-confident classmate.

Thomas suddenly felt that he was entering a private moment, and deliberately sniffed loudly as he forced his frozen feet into action, turning to close the door behind himself. When Thomas turned back, he saw that Jimmy had spun around, pulling his arms in to his stomach and dropping his paintbrush in the process. The long sleeves quickly returned to cover Jimmy's scars.

A bright smile found its way to Thomas's lips, in the hope that Jimmy would think Thomas had only just come in and not noticed what was normally hidden under Jimmy's sleeves. "Hey," he said, trying to sound easy, and not betray how strangely sexy he found the sight of Jimmy making art. "Er - you said to meet you here, right?"

"I said at _two_ ," Jimmy snapped, his arms crossed tightly and his eyebrows knitted fiercely together.

"Yeah, well, we got let out of English Lit early so I thought I'd come and work on my project for a bit," Thomas explained as he crossed the room, beginning to feel awkward. Maybe he should have just waited in the courtyard with Ed until 2pm. "I told Mrs Hughes we were going to meet in here… she said it was okay for me to come in."

Jimmy closed his eyes for a brief moment, apparently collecting himself. "'Sfine," he muttered. "Um… I looked at… at the pictures you sent me." The ghost of a smile brightened his face. "They're really good. I'm rubbish at landscapes; I get bored painting all the leaves. Yours are great, though. They all, like… they feel different, you know? If they're all sunny and open or dark and, um, yeah."

The praise made Thomas feel as though he was swelling up like a balloon, until he floated up and hit the ceiling. "Thanks. I got yours, too. But, um… I thought you were doing comic book illustration as your topic?"

Jimmy frowned. "I am."

"Oh… well… that isn't what you emailed me," Thomas said.

Jimmy's eyes widened in alarm. Thomas couldn't blame him: he knew he would be mortified if some of the stuff on his hard drive was sent to somebody accidentally. "What did I send you?" Jimmy asked, in a tone of inevitable horror.

"They were really good," Thomas said, stalling, because he felt awkward saying it aloud.

Jimmy raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"Er… pictures of… people." _Nude_ people, in fact. Nude _men_ , specifically - exclusively. Bare-chested, showing arses or dicks; one of them even had another person's hand in the back of his long hair, pulling back his head to expose his throat. Thomas had got off over that one more than once. Not just at the picture. At the thought of Jimmy _painting_ it. At the thought of his hand shaping the man's Adam's apple and the clenched fingers in the man's dark hair.

Thomas had known he was gay since at least year 9. He had tried to keep it quiet, though half the class suspected as much because he had never had a girlfriend. Thomas had never suspected Jimmy might be anything other than straight, though that had not stopped him hoping. The paintings he had accidentally received had added to that.

"Right…" Jimmy said quietly. "What kind of… people?"

Plausible deniability, Thomas thought with amusement. But Jimmy couldn't hide that he had gone as pale as his primed canvas. Thomas decided to stop beating about the bush: "You sent me nine pictures of naked guys."

"Dad suggested it," Jimmy said hastily. "He said it's… good practice for… shadows. But still. Maybe… er -" Jimmy tugged on his sleeves, as if to make sure they hadn't slid up to bare anything above his wrists. "Maybe don't mention it to anyone."

Thomas had not intended to do what he did next, and was working on impulse. "Jimmy. Not many people know this, so don't go spreading it, but - I'm gay."

Jimmy's whole face lit up, as though a shutter had been removed from a window. He looked cut-open and vulnerable, as though he had just learned that he was not the only non-straight person in the whole world. "You are?"

"I am. And I'm not saying anything about why you drew those pictures, just… if it was anything to do with… something like _that_ , well, you wouldn't be the only one."

Jimmy closed his eyes again, stock-still. It wasn't until he brought his hand up to rub his eyes that Thomas realised he was crying silently. "Right," Jimmy said thickly. "Thanks for telling me, I suppose. I…" He sniffed. "I won't tell anyone 'less you say I can."

Thomas nodded, trusting him instinctively.

Looking down at his shoes, Jimmy scuffed his feet on the floor before bending to pick up the paintbrush he had dropped when Thomas announced himself. He twirled it absently in his fingers. "I like drawin' 'em," he said with a small shrug, without looking up.

"I liked lookin' at 'em."

Now Jimmy did look up, seeming eager. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Thomas confessed, feeling himself go pink. It felt like a short step from that to admitting that he liked looking at _Jimmy_ , too.

Jimmy looked Thomas up and down, a lingering glance, his plump lips slightly parted. "Could I paint you? As - as practice drawing from life."

"You don't have to paint me to get me naked," Thomas said, and winked.

In the time it took Thomas to blink, Jimmy turned a vibrant shade of red. "What do I have to do, then?" he asked bravely, though his voice shook slightly.

"Well…" Thomas drawled out, an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression on his face as he tapped his chin. He was getting that float-up-to-the-ceiling feeling again. "You could start by coming over here…" Jimmy closed the small distance between them. "And um… holding my hand." Jimmy did so. Thomas gazed at him and almost forgot how to speak. "And then… if you wanted… you could kiss me."

Jimmy licked his lips, then self-consciously wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He tilted his head up, fear and excitement in his eyes in equal measures. Thomas lowered his head and closed his eyes and waited. A second later, Jimmy's lips were on his. _Jimmy Kent was kissing him_. Thomas opened his mouth to him, licked into Jimmy's mouth. Jimmy gripped his hand so tightly it almost hurt.

"Can I paint you, then?" Jimmy asked breathlessly.

"I don't know…" Thomas said. "I might need some more convincing."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: mention of self-harm inc. description of scars.


End file.
